The World's Sweetest Cat
by Midwich Cuckoo
Summary: We all know Garfield as a lazy, irritable and always hungry cat. But what is the real reason for him having those qualities?


**Disclaimer:** The story was written for pure fun – or at least if the serious topic of it can be considered one having anything to do with fun. I have no rights for Garfield. If you liked my story and want to read more stories from this fandom that present a more serious approach to the world of Garfield and his friends, check out my other fics, " **The Basement** " and " **The Animal Lover** ". **Beta:** Moviemom44

" **The World's Sweetest Cat"**

Jon Arbuckle sat in front of the fireplace in the cozy living room of his parents' farmhouse trying to avoid the sad looks his mom and dad were giving him. The snow was falling heavily behind the windows that separated him from the cold winter world outside, closing him in the small hermetic world of the farmhouse where the family had gathered to mourn and share memories of Jon's lifelong friend, his beloved cat, Garfield. Two weeks had passed since the ornery feline's premature death. Jon still had trouble believing that Garfield was no longer bursting with health and energy, stealing snacks from his kitchen, snacks that Jon now knew had contributed to his death.

Inconsolable with grief, Jon came home to his family to spend the Christmas holidays. He brought Garfield's body with him to give him the proper burial in the now frozen ground of the farm. He brought also Odie – alive - with him, and that was good, but he couldn't help remembering the times when Garfield came with them, too. He remembered so much, even the most insignificant memories from that time seemed to mean more now that he realized all he had left were memories - sweet but at the same time how painful. Sweetness and pain mixed in perfect proportions. Even the grudges Mrs. Feeny always held against him for Garfield damaging her garden. The times he scratched up the furniture or vomited all over the carpet, which took place in most cases right after the obese cat ate up the whole contents of the fridge, leaving nothing for Jon, who could have sworn his pet was actually grinning maliciously at the thought of his owner's face when he saw that the only thing left was a forgotten pack of raisins, the only food for which Garfield had an inexplicable hatred, something Jon never did learn the reason for. All of those memories, unpleasant as they were at the beginning, seemed to fade with time, leaving behind only some bitterly sweet feeling that something wonderful happened in Jon's life, but it was already gone. Nevertheless, he was grateful for the time God had given him to spend with his beloved cat, which – even if malicious and always hungry – was indeed a great friend. One of the best, Jon had to admit, he actually had.

Jon Arbuckle wiped tears that gathered in his eyes and didn't even try to do it discretely. He sighed. Mom Arbuckle, sitting in her armchair with a cup of warm tea in her hand, smiled warmly at her son.

"Is everything alright, son?" she asked, looking at him with a sad gaze. She liked the orange cat almost as much as he did, even if she tried to hide it by complaining that Jon's pet had a nasty personality and was disgustingly obese, so unlike her own cute little Nermal – certainly the loveliest animal ever living on Earth.

Jon looked at his mother sadly but instantly turned his head around. Tears glistened in his eyes.

"No, mom," he answered, trying not to look at her. He was ashamed of his tears, even if the death of his beloved pet seemed to be a good reason for them. He pulled a packet of tissues out of his jacket pocket and noisily blew his nose.

"Nothing is going to be the same without Garfield," he added thoughtfully. "This cat was certainly one of a kind. I can't believe he is not with us anymore. I can't believe I'm not ever going to listen to his meowing. That I won't see him any more waiting near his bowl for me to give him his daily dose of food".

"Actually," said Mr. Arbuckle, commenting from his armchair as he looked out the window at the world all covered in cold white fluff, "if that cat had eaten less, he would be still alive, I bet. I always said you shouldn't give him that much food. He was way too obese. Once Doc Boy tried to pick him up out of curiosity and he later told me that he had to drop him right away because this cat was so heavy. I don't know how a pet owner can't control how much his pet eats. I know he had his ways to open the fridge, but still, it was just an animal. You should have known better."

"Garfield was smart, yes," answered Jon. "But he was always asking for food and when he didn't get it, he could get really nasty. Once he scratched my ankle when I took back my piece of pie that he stole from the table. Nevertheless, even with the best medical care, he wouldn't have survived much longer. Liz, his veterinarian, said it was incurable. We would only have been prolonging the inevitable."

"The poor thing looked so healthy until the very end," said Mrs. Arbuckle. "No one would ever guess his health was failing. Until he was put down to sleep, he was such a big, shapely cat. It was a real pleasure to look at him. Yes, he did lose a lot of fur at the end, but his eyes were glistening and he had so much energy." Mom Arbuckle broke off and wiped her eyes with her apron, as she called to mind the memory of her son's pet cat, always so full of life. Now the poor thing lay in his cold grave at the farm and the small mound marking the place where he was put to eternal rest, was unrecognizable to anyone who didn't know it from the rest of the farm landscape, as it was all covered by snow.

"Liz told me all of this was merely the symptoms of his disease," said Jon in a sad voice. "Like his excessive shedding. The whole house seemed to be covered with his hair. I thought he was just malicious doing this. And it was not his fault. Neither was his enormous appetite. A polyphagia, yes, that's what it's called," he said, thinking back to the term Liz used to describe Garfield's illness' symptoms. "Polyphagia means an increased consumption of food. Cats with polyphagia are described as having a ravenous appetite," he quoted Liz's words, recalling her calm voice reciting the symptoms of the illness. "Pets like this get fixated on food. I did notice over the course of years that he was putting on weight, but I didn't know that what made him look so big was also that his liver and kidneys were very swollen. The autopsy revealed this. And I was happy he looked so healthy. That he was such a shapely tomcat."

"Yes, he did look good until the very end," agreed Jon's father. "Even if he was quite a nasty creature. You remember how your mom was always complaining he was so malicious by nature. That she never before met a cat with such a nasty personality, vomiting all over when he was angry and relieving himself on the carpet."

"That's just the other symptoms," his son said, wiping his eyes once more. "If only I knew he was just very ill and not malicious. Cats that have this suffer from increased thirst and in turn urinate a lot. That has a name, too – polydipsia. Yes, that's what Liz called it. I looked it up on line after I talked to her. It's that increased thirst. And the name for increased urination is poly… uh, polyuria," he finished, hesitantly, unsure if he pronounced the word correctly.

"Vomiting also is quite a normal thing in this condition. Liz explained to me that at a severe stage of this illness, cats break down their own fat for energy. And they accumulate waste products from this process, called ketones that build up in the blood. The cat has nausea and vomits all over. And the owner thinks it's just that the cat is malicious. Well, even if he was doing this just out of spite, I shouldn't be surprised – he was always hungry, that's how this condition looks. I would be angry too, if I was constantly hungry and didn't get any food. Well, he did," Jon corrected himself instantly, "but the appetite only increases in this illness. The hunger becomes insatiable. That's why he was always eating so much. But in this illness one needs to get food at a stable time. And the food has to be specially made, if the life of the sufferer is to be prolonged. What Garfield used to eat certainly wasn't good for his health. If only I knew all of this. But when I finally hit upon the idea Garfield may be not feeling well, it was way too late. He had to be put to sleep."

"In life and death, he was always sleeping," said Mom Arbuckle. "He most likely hasn't even noticed this change of his condition. Ordinary sleep, eternal sleep – the latter one is only the prolongation of the former one."

"No, Mom. Not an ordinary sleep," Jon corrected her. He wanted her to understand, now that he knew the truth himself. "As the illness progresses, cats often become more depressed and lethargic. That's just another sign that the cat isn't healthy."

"Well, Garfield wasn't that young anymore," added Mr. Arbuckle, lighting his pipe, a pensive expression on his face. "It seemed natural that he wasn't going to be playful like a kitten".

"Yeah," agreed Jon, straining his sight to see the grave hidden under what now seemed like a ton of snow. "It happens mostly to old and obese cats, males mostly. He was like that. And did you ever pay attention to how funny he was walking? He walked on the whole sole of his back foot. The femoral nerves got affected and the poor thing developed this weird walk. You could think a cat walking on the whole sole of their back paws would be noticeably weird, but I was used to it. I had no idea it was just because something was wrong with his nervous system. Liz explained it to me. If only I knew…"

Jon started to cry. He couldn't forgive himself for not knowing that all those qualities his dead pet was so famous for in the whole neighborhood – his laziness, insatiable appetite and nervous behavior – were symptoms of an illness. 'It's hypertension,' Jon recalled Liz explaining to him, 'and it often presents in the form of aggression, nervous behavior and general anxiety.' Jon felt terrible that his pet was anxious and afraid and suffering so much. No wonder, he thought, that the poor thing attacked everything and everybody that stood in his way, even his best friends.

Jon thought about Odie getting kicked away from the table so many times. About Mrs. Feeny and her garden. About the postman whose trousers Garfield shredded with his sharp claws. Knowing what he knew now, all those memories presented Garfield in a completely different light. His insatiable appetite, his unnatural laziness – all of those weren't just the mere expression of Garfield's personality but the symptoms of a serious illness that finally took the cat's life. Jon couldn't forgive himself for not noticing this. He could have taken him to the vet earlier. He could have started to wonder about his insatiable appetite. Or noticed other, less obvious signs, like his smelly breath. Acetone-smelly. Yes, it was a common sign in this illness, something he now knew all too well. He'd also knew now that animals do their best to hide failing health. Garfield was a smart cat; he knew how to hide it when he was not feeling well. He was doing his best to present himself as bursting with energy – especially when he saw food. Yes, it was the only thing that could pull him out of his lethargy, which was also caused by an illness, an ordinary illness that took his feline friend's life.

"Jon, stop crying," said Mrs. Arbuckle softly. "You couldn't prevent this. You had no way to know Garfield's health was deteriorating. He was indeed a sweet cat and we will always remember him as such in spite of all his flaws, but you just couldn't know that his laziness and appetite weren't just the expression of his personality and his love of life and its pleasures. That he was a sweet cat in more ways than one. That there was too much sugar in his blood. There was no way to know he had a feline diabetes".

 **The end.**


End file.
